


Ask Me What I Do on My Vacations

by TUNiU



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cleverness, Drowning, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 10:23:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18313637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TUNiU/pseuds/TUNiU
Summary: This is one of two James Bond fics I tried to write to show off Q's unknown cleverness. We all know he's the master of technology but he's also a crafty little bugger.





	Ask Me What I Do on My Vacations

**Author's Note:**

> Recovered from an old thumb drive.

Q tugged at his bonds. “I swear this is the last time you convince me to go with you. You know what’s coming don’t you?”

“Yes, I am acquainted with the details.” James answered dryly, not bothering to fight the ropes binding him to the chair. “Torture, demands, etc. Bad men are so predictable.” The two of them were tied to chairs in the center of the empty room waiting their captors return.

“Well, just you remember who’s the important one in this room.”

“Relax, you don’t have the information they want.”

Q laughed. “So, I’m the expendable one, good. How it should be.”

James glanced at Q. “I didn’t know you cared so much about me.”

“Hardly. My secrets, of which there are many you are not aware of, will simply die with me.” Q proclaimed calmly. “Threat neutralized. The safety of MI6 secured.”

 

When the bad men returned, they brought with them a large bucket of water. There were three of them, members of a Spanish cartel. Two of them were standard tattooed thugs in bad fitting suits. The third was the leader. The bucket was placed on the ground in front of Q.

The leader, suspected of being connected to terrorist cells across the Mediterranean, spoke to James. “Who is your contact?”

James did not answer.

The thugs untied Q from the chair, but kept his hands tied behind his back.

“Who is your contact?”

James again, did not answer.

Q’s head was forced into the bucket of water. He did not struggle.

“At first they don’t believe we will hold them down for so long. Eventually they realize… Who is your contact?”

Silence… then thrashing as Q fought the grips of two men with hundreds of pounds of muscle focused solely on keeping his head underwater.

“Who is your contact?”

The struggles ceased.

“The clever ones, they think to pretend, hoping we’ll let them up… Who is your contact?”

Q’s legs flailed on the ground, trying to move himself away. Water splashed over the bucket in little waves.

“Who is your contact?”

“Who is your contact?”

“Who is your contact?”

“Who is your contact?”

“Quickly now…Who is your contact? Oh, too late.”

Q lay limp. The thugs dropped his body to the ground. They took up positions either side of the leader.

“Now it’s time to get inventive, yes.” They left, presumably to bring some non-fatal torture for James.

James stared at the drowned Q, seeing one more failure in his list.

“Have they gone?” Q whispered, his eyes still closed.

“Eeek.” James did not squeak.

“Good.” Q sat up. He slipped off his left shoe and maneuvered it around into his hands. “I’ve never told you what I do on my holidays, have I? Go on, ask me what I do on my holidays.” He manipulated the sole of the shoe and the small knife snicked out of the heel.

“What do you do on your holidays?” James asked obediently.

“I sponge dive. In Florida.” The rope was very thick and the knife very small. Eventually after some bloodied palms, Q sawed through the bindings. He stood and started work on James’ bonds.

“You’re afraid of flying.”

“Mmhmm. It’s good isn’t it? Who’d suspect an aviaphobe of flying to America every few months?”


End file.
